


And Love Me, If That's What You Wanna Do

by TheForgottenDreams



Series: I Said 'I Love You' [12]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Music, F/F, M/M, Multi, Slow Dancing, Speeches, drunken people
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-08
Updated: 2016-08-08
Packaged: 2018-08-07 10:19:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7711252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheForgottenDreams/pseuds/TheForgottenDreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Hey ‘Taire, nice speech.” Enjolras smirked, putting an arm out so Grantaire didn’t fall, ever the gentlemen. Grantaire took advantage of it, and leaned heavily against the blond, he smelt like oranges and books. Nerdy hot. Yeah, that described him.</p>
<p>“I winged it, can you tell?”</p>
<p>“A little.” Enjolras grinned back at him. Fuck, when Enjolras smiled like that at him and he was a little drunk, he could pretend nothing was wrong. Witchcraft. It had to be. </p>
<p>“Obviously, you’re like the master speech maker.” Grantaire replied. </p>
<p>“Obviously.” Enjolras laughed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Love Me, If That's What You Wanna Do

“Grantaire, give a speech!” Cosette demanded, pushing him up onto the table and thrusting a glass of champagne in his hand, he took it and she grinned up at him like he was An Important Person and not just Grantaire.

She was very tipsy though, cheeks flushed red, eyes slightly gazed, normally immaculate curls messed up and twice the size. Grantaire noted that Éponine was watching the blonde from her place beside Enjolras, her eyes narrowed and lips in a dopey smile – he’d never say it to her, too afraid she’d punch him. He wondered what was going on between them, Cosette hadn’t told him and he was dying to know, for weeks they’d been skirting around each other and he just wanted to scream enough at them.

“Why?” He asked the blonde, returning his gaze to her, he wasn’t that much taller than her with the table and it made him want frown. Curse his shortness. 

“Because!” She yelled, crossing her arms, raising her head and staring up at him like a six-year-old trying to win an argument. She scowled up at him and he fought a laugh in case she had a tantrum.

“What about?”

“The album.” She hissed, hand covering her mouth like it was a secret and they weren’t currently in the middle of a launch party for it. He rolled his eyes as she whirled around, raising her voice, “Everyone! R is making a speech, listen up bitches!”

“Er, thanks...” Grantaire scrunched up his nose, “So I’ve been forced to do a speech – ow, fuck off ‘Sette – okay so, speech. Yay. So these past few months have been really hard, to write songs, learn them, produce them and so on, but we did! We fucking did it! We released an album! I can happily tick this off my bucket list.” He paused as people laughed, which was not expected, “To be serious for a second, people keep asking me what it feels like to be in this position. And honestly it’s so weird, being shipped from place to place in a plane, seeing our faces in magazines, shoved into clothes and then pushed in front of all these famous people. It’s so far from anything I ever imagined, I can see how it could change people, make them all power crazy and self-obsessed, but I have my band with me. I know we’ll stay grounded together and honestly I’m so proud of all of us and I guess I have to do thanks now, Oscars style.”

“Oh god.” He thought that was Éponine but he couldn’t be sure. 

“I want to thank my parents for producing me and for kicking me out so I ran into Bahorel and decided to form a band with him, I want to thank the trees for providing me with oxygen so I didn’t die, I want to thank pizza for being pizza.” He grinned meeting his friends’ eyes and they laughed, “I’m kidding, I’ll get down to the real thanks now. Thank you all for helping us to create this album, we literally couldn’t have done it without you. Thank you, Cosette for kicking us up the arses. Thank you Marius for booking us venues and introducing us to Musichetta, who we need to thank for recording our album and having pun battles with Joly and ‘Suet so the rest of us don’t have to endure that.”

“Hey!” Both Joly and Bossuet called out making the others laugh. Grantaire saw Musichetta press kisses to each of their cheeks and their faces unrumpled as they grinned at her. They were so lucky.

“Thank you Feuilly for correcting our drunken texts, making us presentable for the public and for everything else you do for us, marketing, numbers, all the boring shit. You’re a star and you don’t get enough credit. Thank you Éponine for being terrifying and backing Cosette up, thank you Combeferre for being an ear to go to and offering all your support, thank you Courf’ for being the comic relief and Enjolras, thank you for fighting with me, your arguments are top notch. Ten out of ten would recommend.” 

“Screw you R.” Enjolras heckled from his place at the back of the crowd. They’d rented the function room in some fancy hotel and invited everyone who had supported the band throughout the journey. The few family members they actually spoke to, friends, tech crews, advertisers and so on.

“No, no, I’ll be serious – you’re always telling me that right? – well, thank you for going on inspiration hunts and putting up with me, encouraging me when I don’t want to go on. You do so much and I honestly can’t thank you enough, your friendship means so much to me Enjolras, so thank you.” Grantaire smiled and Enjolras beamed back. They stood like that until someone cleared their throat and brought Grantaire back to reality, “Obviously a big thanks to Bahorel, Joly and Bossuet for making the band, we literally wouldn’t have had an album without you. And, a huge thanks to the rest of you for supporting us, encouraging us, inspiring us, actually buying our shitty music. I love you all!”

“Yeah you fucking do!” Bahorel cheered, making the others laugh.

“So to everyone, thank you, you’re all the best!” Grantaire raised his glass in the air, the others following, their faces breaking out into riots as they beamed up at him. 

“Cheers!”

-

“Hey, Enjy.” Grantaire laughed as he stumbled off the dancefloor from where he’d been dancing with Courfeyrac, the brunet now pulling Combeferre into his personal whirlwind from where he’d been talking to Enjolras. Though, Combeferre didn’t look like he minded his sudden change in position much, not with the way Courfeyrac was looking at him. 

“Hey ‘Taire, nice speech.” Enjolras smirked, putting an arm out so Grantaire didn’t fall, ever the gentlemen. Grantaire took advantage of it, and leaned heavily against the blond, he smelt like oranges and books. Nerdy hot. Yeah, that described him.

“I winged it, can you tell?”

“A little.” Enjolras grinned back at him. Fuck, when Enjolras smiled like that at him and he was a little drunk, he could pretend nothing was wrong. Witchcraft. It had to be. 

“Obviously, you’re like the master speech maker.” Grantaire replied. 

“Obviously.” Enjolras laughed. 

“I meant what I said though.” He needed Enjolras to know that, so despite what happened with them, he would know how much Grantaire valued his friendship. Because he did, he loved how comfortably they got on. He was so pleased he’d picked a debate with Enjolras that day. “Especially the stuff I’m scared about.”

“I know and I won’t let you get all big-headed, don’t worry.” Enjolras smiles at him and when he looked like that Grantaire had a hard time not believing him.

“Don’t let me be an air-head either. There’s so many people we’ve met in the past few months that are so beautiful but they have nothing to say, they don’t see the decline in standards we accept, they don’t see the corruption or the sickness in the industry. They’re too caught up in the fashion and the glamour and their own appearances. And don’t let me detach from my fans, they as well as you guys got me here.”

“I won’t R, I promise.”

“Good.” Grantaire smiled, looking out at his friends on the dancefloor. Éponine and Cosette were dancing together, closely, blushes on their faces, Musichetta, Joly and Bossuet were smushed together, moving semi-rhythmically, Combeferre was being flung around by his boyfriend and even Feuilly and Bahorel were attempting a group dance with Marius and Jehan. He felt a surge of courage and looked back at Enjolras. 

“I should tell you, I should- Dance with me? R, please?” Enjolras asked, eyebrows moving up in that way that Grantaire knew meant he was unsure. But why he had no clue. Grantaire would always dance with him. Always. 

“Sure.” Grantaire caught his hand pulling them onto the dancefloor as a slower song played. 

It was different to dancing with Enjolras in a hotel room. Here, they were under scrutiny from their friends, family, the few reporters who had been allowed to attend, but they didn’t let it phase them, slipping into their familiar poses, Grantaire’s arms around Enjolras’ neck, looking up at the blond with so much love, as Enjolras gazed back, hands slipping under Grantaire’s shirt. 

Here, Grantaire could feel other eyes on them, watching as they moved in a rhythm they’d required through their time together, he could feel them analysing the way they moved, how they looked at each other, what they were saying. He knew of the onslaught of questions they’d get tomorrow, how dancing like this wasn’t going to help the case that they were ‘just friends’. But Enjolras had asked him to dance, in public and he wouldn’t ever say no to Enjolras, he didn’t know how to say no to him, couldn’t say no. Couldn’t let himself hope it might mean something. 

“Cosette is staring at us.” Enjolras whispered, twirling Grantaire around so he could see the blonde, finished dancing apparently, Éponine nowhere to be seen. The blonde was looking directly at them and Grantaire could see her fingers blurred as she typed something out on her phone, probably alerting their friends. 

“Fuck her.” Grantaire answered, though he was smiling, he did love her like a sister. 

“I’d rather not, not that she isn’t lovely, but I’m, I should, I’m-”, Enjolras stumbled at the end, tone so serious and full of affection that Grantaire shifted his eyes back to Enjolras’, seeing nothing but anxious honesty gazing back at him. “I’m quite happy with just you.”

“Yeah? I’m quite happy with just you too.” Grantaire grinned back, fighting the swoops in his stomach. Don’t hope, don’t wish, don’t start, don’t – too late.

“I should tell you-”

“Tell me?” Grantaire asked, going for flirty and coy but sounding naively hopeful. Ugh. Why could he never be cynical around Enjolras? Why did he get sucked into his golden positivity? Why did he start to believe?

“I.” Enjolras stuttered, so unlike himself, so unsure, it wasn’t right, it didn’t work. Grantaire was concerned. Then Enjolras face changed, he breathed out and relaxed, “I have a room here, if you want to uh, go back to it.”

“Sure, when the party is over.” Grantaire forced a smile, trying not to show his breaking heart, shattering hope – why? Why get his hopes up? Why wish for something more? 

Enjolras believed it was casual and it was, it was casual and that was his problem. He loved Enjolras, loved him more than he had loved anyone in his life, it was scary and consuming and so powerful. So powerful. And, that’s why he couldn’t tell Enjolras, because Enjolras would get scared, would run away and he wouldn’t have anything left. Wouldn’t have the sex, the friendship, the happiness. 

Why did some cruel force have it in for Grantaire? 

“R, you okay?” Enjolras peered at him with concern. 

“I am wonderful, I’m going to get a drink and then let you dance with Éponine since she’s reappeared and been glaring since the track changed. What room?”

“183.” Enjolras answered.

“I’ll meet you there after the party.” Grantaire smiled, twirling out of the blond’s arm, pushing Éponine towards him as he fled, snagging a drink from the table before he slipped outside into the cooling air. 

Toasting nothing but the darkening night, he downed the glass in one.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Love Me - The 1975   
> This marks the start of their new album, so from here on Grantaire starts writing for the latest album.
> 
> I actually forgot to post this so I'll fit it in where it should be.
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr as Beelzebertha


End file.
